


The Beginning of Something Really E%cellent

by SelenaEstella



Series: Prompted works [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Meowrails, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a Tumblr prompt: how Equius and Nepeta first met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of Something Really E%cellent

**Author's Note:**

> I am fairly bored of seeing Equius saving/helping Nepeta as their first meeting, especially because Nepeta is far from weak. So I did it differently =)
> 
> Notice: this was written before we found the true reason behind Equius' behaviour around highbloods. So I used my own theory.

You hit the ground with a crash, shaking all over and clutching at the shattered stump that was your horn. Blue leaks over your fingers, runs down your arms and your face and your chin, and _there’s so much of it_ , you hadn’t realized how much horns bleed, oh God, you are going to _die_ …

The purpleblood advances, sneer in place, left hand clutching the remainder of your horn. In their right in their weapon, a steel mace covered in your blood, but they broke your horn off using their _bare hands_ , they are going to _kill you_ …!

And you’re not even five sweeps old…

‘I’m sorry!’ you gasp, groveling at the troll’s feet in a last bid for life. ‘Never again… I promise… across my vascular system… I’ll never come here again!’ You words are greeted by a foot on your ribs. The blue of your tears mixes with the blue of your blood — you are _terrified_ and all you can do is stay and still as you can and hope that they decide you’re not worth killing.

‘I won,’ the purpleblood sneers. ‘And you’re a _smart_ troll, ain’t ya? You’re gonna do what I say, right?’ You nod. It pounds in your head and makes sparks of pain flare across your vision but you nod, you agree, because you don’t want to die just yet.

‘You are _weak_ , peasant, compared to me. Compared to _all_ of us! Disrespect a Highblood again, and I will track you down and _kill you where you stand, you got that?!_ ’ You nod again, unable to stop the pathetic whimpers from escaping from your throat. The highblood kicks your hands, jars the stump of your horn and you _scream_ in the _agony_ that rips through your skull

.’Wear that and remember,’ the purpleblood growls. ‘And _I_ am gonna keep _this—’_ he waves the blue-stained horn remains in your line of vision ‘—to remember _you_ by, too. I ain’t gonna forget. I _don’t_ forget! You better be careful, _shitblood_ , ‘cause I will remember you for the rest of my life.’

The steel-studded boot slams into your ribs once, twice, three times. You feel bones crack and break and now you can barely even breath. You shake and whimper and gasp in a pathetic little heap as the highblood turns and walks away.You wait until their footsteps fade and then count a hundred seconds more. Only after you are _sure_ that they are gone and gone _forever_ do you finally let yourself pass out.

> =>

Tonight, you decide, is a good night for hunting.

Well, every night is a good night for hunting because there is _always_ something to hunt, but tonight seems like an _especially_ good night! Pounce is pacing around the cave, impatient to get out, to go _adventuring_ with you, so you grab your last supplies and race with her from the cave!

The night passes pretty normally. You make a few sweet kills, and Pounce has to help you out a bit sometimes, but you can mostly hunt for yourself now! Hoofbeasts are still quite difficult – they’re so strong! – but you’re learning techniques on how to take them down.

Unfortunately, you can’t take most of the carcasses back with you – there are too many big ones, and you can only carry one at a time. Pounce drags one in her mouth, a lizardy creature that she will probably enjoy eating but is a bit too stringy for your tastes…

She’s found a meal, so it’s time to head home.

You have to pass by the sea on your way back. You don’t really like it because a purpleblood lives pretty close, who is scary and has taken a swing at you a couple of times. Luckily, you are very nimble and don’t try to fight, and they are rather slow so you can outrun them pretty easily!

But as you cautiously scamper across the top of the cliffs, intent on getting through as carefully and as quietly as possible… you think you smell a whiff of blood.

You raise your keen nose to the air and sniff. The sea wind blows towards you, bringing the scent with it, and you realize that it is not a _whiff_ of blood but a _torrent_ riding on the air, holy crap, whatever it is must be pretty badly hurt!

…They also appear to be at the bottom of the cliff. You carefully peer over, but it is dark down there and you can make out a shape that might just be a few rocks…

It’s cold and you’re nervous and also pretty tired, but……but you can’t just leave now, not when someone could be hurt!You drop your kill and carefully dig your claws into the rock at your feat. The stone feels way too loose, but a girl never got anywhere by being afraid so you poke your feet over the edge, searching for some sort of purchase, and discover that the cliff face actually has a lot of little ledges and holes in it.

Climbing down doesn’t take long at all, and you even slide some of the way. Getting back up will be much harder, you know, and you probably should have thought of that, but it’s too late now and you are determined not to give up.

Your decent took you too far to the right, so you hop nimble down onto the crunchy, rock-studded sand, carefully making your way over to the source of the smell….

There is a lot of blood.

Nervously, you inch your way forward, wary of both the sharp rocks and the injured… _thing_. You cannot tell whether it is troll or beast, not in the shadows cast by the cliffs, but you can smell a lot of blood and the chances of it actually being alive are—

It moves. You manage not to scream.

You drop to all-fours for the last couple of meters, body tensed and ready to send you springing backwards at a moment’s notice. Not the best kind of defense but certainly one of the most effective.

The creature whimpers and shifts slightly. You don’t _think_ it’s going to hurt you, but the pat you give it is especially cautious.

‘Hello?’ you whisper. No animal you know of can talk. A verbal response will be the best way to make sure.

‘…Who are you?’ is the reply, deep and hoarse and probably male. You instantly relax. It _is_ a troll, _not_ an animal, and they don’t seem very hostile, whoever-they-are.

But they are also very hurt.

‘I’m Nepeta,’ you say, already getting out your emergency medical supplies. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Zahhak. Equius Zahhak.’ The name sounds fancy, but you can’t see the blood so you can’t be sure what caste the troll is. Maybe you should just cull them out of kindness? It’s not like you haven’t done it to animals you’ve found……But what if they’re a highblood who has filled quadrants and has a powerful lusus and _you_ will be killed if you decide to hurt this guy?

‘Ok, Equius? There isn’t enough light here, but if you just lean on me I can get you to a place where I can look at your injuries…’ You can see a patch of pink moonlight not far away and move further towards the place where you think the troll’s head is. Your fingers meet bloody hair, damp and sticky, but it isn’t anything you’ve never felt before. You’re fine with it.

‘No… I am a disgrace… leave me here…’ Almost definitely a highblood, then. You hope you haven’t ended up helping the purple meanie who lives around here… If you have, how did they get hurt? Did they fall? Were they attacked by sea dwellers?

You decide not to think about it, and focus instead on helping the reluctant troll to his unsteady feet. Equius Zahhak can’t be that much older than you, but he’s already pretty tall and leans on you heavily. You suspect a head injury of some sort, though what and where, you don’t—

…Oh.

You have reached the patch of moonlight. The blood clinging to your fingers and clothes is blue, which is better than purple you guess, but you can see where it’s coming from now and it is not pretty at all.

Equius’ left horn is straight and pointed, but the stump of his right is clamped beneath his blue-streaked hand. You feel your own horns tingle uncomfortably and suppress a shudder. Your own horns are horribly sensitive at this age and the pain of breaking one is unimaginable… He must be in agony…

You try to stay professional about it, even though your medical knowledge goes no further than licking cuts clean and maybe putting a Band-Aid over them. But you sit the injured blueblood down and carefully pry his hand away from the broken horn.

…Wow.You can barely see it for all the blood, and the sight of the fleshy core sticking out like that actually makes you feel sick to your stomach. Grimacing, you give it a small lick. There is probably a better way of doing this, but you don’t know it. The troll shudders and whimpers, but you continue to lick up the blood and he actually stays very still for you, considering.

It’s bleeding so heavily you can barely clean it, and why isn’t it clotting, weren’t highbloods meant to be _good_ at this, and where the fuck is your medical kit?? Bandaging is even worse than cleaning and the troll is _strong_ for someone who’s lost so much blood! You manage to get him into an extremely awkward headlock and end up losing three whole roles of bandages to blood, while you feel the troll grow weaker and weaker beneath your hands. It’s still coming so fast, and you almost _wish_ Equius would try struggling again, now.

You don’t know how long it takes, only that you’re shivering in the cold sea breeze once you’re done and the blueblood is practically unconscious. You know you won’t be able to make it back up the cliffs, so you’ll have to go the long way round and that will take _forever._

Unless…You look up at the cliff edge for the first time in ages. Pounce’s face pokes out from over the top, like a silver moon in the shape of a cat. You urgently beckon to her.

She skids down the stone too fast to be safe, but like every decent cat she reaches the sand on all four feet and bounds towards you, completely unharmed. You help Equius to his feet. He leans all is weight on you and if _much_ heavier than you were prepared for, but you manage to haul him over to your lusus, who gives him a suspicious sniff.

‘I’m helping him, ok?’ you say, in a fierce whisper. Pounce looks slightly confused. ‘No eat!’ you add as an afterthought. The purrbeast gets it and, with a thousand muttered apologies to both Pounce and Equius, you heave the wounded troll onto your lusus’ back. Pounce shifts uncomfortably – he’s heavier than you ever were – but once you begin to lead the way, she follows without complaint.

The journey back is long and tiring and you are filled with anxiety, stopping every five minutes to check that the troll is still breathing, that you don’t need to change the bandages again, that no other horrible thing hasn’t happened since you last turned your back on him and faced the path home.

Your cave has never been so welcoming before. You light a fire with shaky hands, wrap Equius in your warmest animal skins, and then curl up next to him with Pounce on your other side and now, you can just sleep and sleep and sleep.

> =>

Your head hurts.

Perhaps that is an understatement.

Your head is gripped in a state of pounding _agony_ that ripples over your skull with every heartbeat, drilling into your skull and rooting itself into your brain and all coming together in a swirling knot of _agony_ in the blazing stump of—

…your… horn…

The loss hurts far more than you ever thought it would. A part of you is _gone_ and gone _forever_. Horns do not grow back – you will never be _whole_ again. And no lowblood will respect you and the highbloods will simply laugh, you will be shunned by your species and

everything

_hurts_.

You had forgotten about your ribs, but now you can barely breathe. And you haven’t even _tried_ moving your limbs, or doing anything except lying still in this… surprisingly soft and warm environment in which you have awoken.

Thinking anything more than simple sentences hurts, so you don’t even try to remember how you got… wherever you are. You just long for your coon, and for Authour to bring you some warm milk, and for a state in which you are _not_ crippled with agony. You almost wish you had died…

Why _didn’t_ you die?

Your head hurts too much to remember; you feel physically ill with pain. You suppose this must be normal for horn injuries, although you never wanted to find out and you _certainly_ never wanted to find out like _this_.You lie still for what feels like a horribly long time before anything happens. You are steeling yourself to move when you hear the light padding of feet approaching. Your aching brain allows you to vaguely remember the troll who found you as you lay beside the cliffs, bleeding out onto the rocks and sands.

Are you in her hive? You’re not in a recuperacoon…You try not to tense as the footsteps approach. For one thing, it would hurt. For another, you don’t want her to know you’re awake yet. You are afraid. It pains you to even think it, because you are supposed to be STRONG and not afraid of such things, but you are _scared_ of what the waking world will hold.

But you are in far too much pain to fall asleep.

The footstep grow louder — the troll is approaching. You keep lying still and manage not to jump as you feel a warm, rough hand gently touch your cheek.

‘Mr. Equius?’ the girl whispers. Her voice is high and soft and very familiar, if not for a particularly pleasant reason. You still do not move, even to open your eyes, but you are perhaps not as afraid as you were before.

‘Mr. Equius, will you wake up fur me?’ She gently slaps your cheek.

You slowly open your eyes.

The block is very dim, the only light being thrown onto it by what appears to be flickering flames. The ceiling is rough, and looks like stone, which makes you question that you are even in a hive at all.

Closer to you is the girl. You can’t tell her caste, but judging by her warmth she is quite a bit lower than you. You aren’t too sure what to think about that. Her coat — dark green — suggests olive, but she is currently twisted around so that you cannot see her sign. You will have to wait until—

She turns back to you, holding a damp cloth in one hand. You think she nearly screams when she realizes that you are awake. At any rate, she drops the cloth.

‘Oh!’ she squeaks. ‘You’re awake!’

Now would probably be the best time to say something sarcastic, except you have better manners than that and besides, you feel too unwell.

‘Yes,’ you say instead, because nodding is out of the question. The girl only stares, and you take the opportunity to get a look at her sign. Olive, as you had suspected. There are worse castes to owe your life to, you suppose…

She picks up the cloth and carefully refolds it before laying it across your forehead. The relief you feel comes instantly, and you find, as they relax, that you were tensing muscles without meaning to, just out of pain.

‘Um. I’m Nepeta,’ she says awkwardly. She must have a thousand questions. You will try your best to answer them, but you don’t think you will last very long. ‘I. Er. I helped you,’ she says. She is scared you realized. Scared of a broken blueblood who currently owes her his life.

‘I cannot thank you enough,’ you reply earnestly, staring through the pain and into her wide grey eyes. ‘Whatever you request, I…’ You are worried about committing yourself, both because of her blood and because you simply cannot do _anything_ in your currently state. But you say the words anyway. ‘…I will do my best to fulfill it. I… I owe you a lot…’

‘I want you to get better,’ she says, firmly… and slowly gingerly… takes your hand in hers.

You feel your lips pull into small, tired smile. ‘I will try,’ you breathe.

‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘You _will_.’

_(Your head hurts and your ribs are broken and your pride aches from the loss of something vital… and yet…)_

‘I will,’ you reply. And you believe it.

_(…and yet, you are happy.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please alert me to any mistakes... I am also slightly dubious about Nepeta's characterization (I nearly always struggle with her). Constructive criticism is welcome.


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